Saving You, Saving Me
by OzellaMarie
Summary: When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But what happens when life throws you a bad-boy biker, an uptight neighbor and a couple of kids that aren't even your own? You cross your fingers and hope for the best! Bella and Edward-AH-Rated 'M'-Contains Lemons-HEA-Adult Language-Adult Themes-Romantic Comedy (Not Suitable For Those Under 18 yrs.)
1. Authors Note

**{Author's Note}**

This is a re-written/re-edited/re-worked version of the previously published, Saving You, Saving me. For those of you who have been following the previous version since 2012, you will probably notice a few minor changes. I have since removed all the chapters from the previous version.

I will do my best to post once a week to keep this story updated as regularly as possible.

Happy Reading!

OzellaMarie

 **Disclaimer: All character belong to their creator (SM) but the plot and story are all mine. No copyright infringement intended.**


	2. Who Pissed Off The Bear?

Saving You, Saving Me

Chapter One

 **Who Pissed Off The Bear**

* * *

 _ **Edward**_

* * *

 _Someone's gonna fucking die._

The banging on the front door is enough to wake the goddamn the dead and if the fuckin' knocker doesn't put a cork in it, they might just find my steel toe shoved up their ass. I push the bar bunny off my chest and watch as her limp body rolls to the other side of the bed. Tanya, the broad I've been bangin' for the last couple weeks is just a warm piece of ass to keep my dick company on cold nights. Besides, the woman knows how to suck one off like a goddamn pro. No sense in getting rid of my steady cock sucker. I sit up and scratch my beard, realizing that I need to seriously brush my teeth. Smells like pussy and liquor.

When I finally get my ass out of bed, I make my way down the hall with only one thing on my mind.

"Hold the fuck on! Unless you want me to punch you in the fucking throat, you'll quit banging that goddamn banging!"

But as soon as I open the front door, I quickly wish I hadn't.

 _The fuck?_

"I took care of those tickets months ago, fellas, so you'd better take that shit up with someone who gives a good fuck."

I size up the two uniformed officers standing in front of me when I feel a breeze zip across my thighs. When I look down I realize that I'm standing naked as the day I was born in front of the boys in blue.

"We're looking for Edward Cullen."

"That'd be me. Now what can I do for you fine, upstanding pillars of the community at two o'clock in the goddamn morning?"

I love law enforcement as much as I hate the dentist. Let's be real. I'm no stranger to the men in blue, but it's been a good minute since I've had a run-in with them. Now don't get me wrong. I'm all for supporting our local boys but every time I'm out on my bike they always find a reason to fuck with me. I think I've had more tickets in my lifetime that I have had blow jobs.

"Sir, if you'd like to get dressed we'll…"

"Yeah, I'm good," I reply, enjoying the fact that I'd just shocked the shit out of these two fucknuts. "It's just my cock. Now, can we get on with it because I need to get back to screwin' that nasty bitch upstairs."

"Sir, um, we're sorry to inform you but there's been an accident," the same officer replies, his expression guarded as his eyes roam the tattoos that cover eighty percent of my upper body while his fingers skim his gun holster. Not to mention, this is the fifth time he's glanced down at my cock. "Sir, did you hear me?"

 _These two douche wads must be rookies._

"Sir?"

"Yeah? What?"

"Sir, we just told you that there's been an accident."

My brain starts running wild as soon as what the officer says begins to register. I've never been one to panic but I can't help and wonder if this accident involved Emmett or Jasper? I will seriously murder a motherfucker if they messed with either of my boys. Those guys are the only two people in this entire fucking universe I've ever considered family. Emmett and Jasper have stood by me through my worst and I'd no doubt offer to meet the reaper in either of their place.

I give the officers a roll of my hand, urging them to continue. "It's your brother, Anthony Cullen. He was in a car accident near his home. He and his girlfriend, Megan, didn't survive the accident. We're terribly sorry for your loss, Mr. Cullen."

An instant sigh of relief washes over me when I find out that the accident didn't involve my two closest friends. But bells and alarms still ring out, and I'm not even sure if I'd heard them correctly.

"Excuse me? _What_ did you just say?"

The officers look at one another. "Your brother, Anthony Cullen, and his girlfriend were in a car accident a few hours ago, Sir. Neither of them survived. We're terribly sorry."

I let out a breath. "And you're here _why_?"

Silence surrounds the three of us. This is frustrating bullshit at two in the morning, and all I want to do was go back to bed. I also want to kick Tanya the fuck out of it, too. That bitch knows better than to stay the night. I've never, ever let a woman share my bed, and how the hell I did not realize that she was all bundled up next to me is a fucking mystery. Maybe it has something to do with the amount of Jack I'd consumed earlier in the night. Or maybe it was the fact that she sucked me off so fucking good just a few hours ago that it slipped my mind.

 _Gotta re-think that shit in the future._

"Sir? Is there someone we can call for you?"

I snap my eyes forward, breaking myself from my inner ramblings about the naked bar bunny sleeping in my bed.

"So baby brother kicked the bucket." I muse, scratching my rough jaw. "Why the fuck are you here telling _me_? I haven't talked to that motherfucker in years." I spit the last few words as if they'd been dipped in acid.

"Well, you are listed as his only next of kin besides his children, of course," one of the officer's replies. "We are obligated to inform the next of kin, Sir."

 _Kids? What kids?_

Before I can get the obvious question out, I feel a hand slide up my side, making me cringe.

"What's going on?" Tanya asks, letting out a dramatic yawn behind me. I swear to God her breath smells like everything below my waist. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's just peachy fucking keen."

I shrug the bar bunny's hand off of my shoulder and stand just a bit taller. I know there's no way I'm going to get any sleep after this little visit from Fork's finest. Not to mention, there's one burning question that can't be overlooked.

"You said something about kids."


	3. And Then There Were Three

**Chapter 2**

And Then There Were Three

* * *

 **Edward**

* * *

Anthony Cullen was the apple of our father's eye. He was one of those motherfuckers that could do everything wrong and nothing wrong all at the same time, and he made damn sure to rub it in my face every chance he could. Even as snotty kids, Anthony was a little prick. He always found a way to blame his fuck-ups on me which always earned me a swift smack to the ass or a belt across the backs of my legs without fail. The vivid memories of dear ole' dad connecting that fucked up old belt across my ass because baby brother was a lying prick makes my blood boil just thinking about it. As soon as I graduated from high school I hoped on the first bike I ever bought from old man Skinner and hauled ass straight outta that town without not so much as a fuck you on my way out. The day I left I swore that none of them would ever lay eyes on me again. It was a promise that I wholeheartedly kept, and when I found out that little brother had left him as his next of kin it threw me for a loop and nearly made me laugh.

I left home seventeen years ago and have only seen my brother one other time.

The day our little sister Emily died, of an overdose of heroin, almost sent me to my own fucking grave. She was what I considered a lost soul straight from the gate. When we were kids Emily clung to my side like, holding on to me as if I were a life preserver, saying that I was the only one that understood her. God, I loved my baby sister. When she'd finally hit rock bottom I moved her in with me after her last relapse and weeks before her death. When the funeral came around, I wanted to fucking die. When our father demanded that Emily be buried in the family plot even though she made me swear that I would never allow that to happen, it destroyed me when I gave in, allowing the old fuck to overpower me on that decision, giving in to the bastard that made me feel like that small, scared child for all those years earlier.

Up to this point, I haven't stopped hating myself for it.

I blink my eyes a couple times and blow out a heavy breath. After the officers informed me of Anthony's death, they explained to that I'd need to make necessary arrangements for his body. The only problem was that little brother's body was in Chicago and I hate fucking planes. Two days later, I found myself sitting in a large office overlooking the City of Chicago, a place I swore I'd never again step foot in. Fate's a nasty little bitch and she reared her ugly head this time.

A throat clears behind the mahogany desk that I sat in front of. "You know, Mr. Cullen, we could always find a suitable foster family for them both if it's too much for you to take on right now. I'm not entirely sure that they'll be able to stay together but we'll do our best."

The forms scream in my face to run, take flight and never look back while I still had the chance. But I can't. I won't. I need to quit being a pussy, man up, take the bull by the proverbial horns and trudge through this shit storm that's now whacking me square in the face.

My head snaps up as I regard the Prada-wearing attorney in front of me. I eyeball the nameplate that sits firmly on her desk. "No, Ms. Jenks," I reply. "They're fuckin' family. I have to take them. We'll be fine."

The sigh that leaves the woman's mouth is relief and irritation all at the same time. I watch as she jots a few lines down, no doubt about our visit, in her tidy little notebook.

"Language, Mr. Cullen," the woman responds with a cock of her brow as she pulls out more forms that I'm sure will more than likely end up giving me a bigger fucking headache than I already have. "I need you to read these over carefully and sign and date each of one."

"What are these?"

"This one is your brothers Last Will and Testament. You don't need to sign it. It explains that the children are to be placed in your care if you so choose to take them which you have and it also name's you as the executor of their estate," the attorney explains. "You will be in charge of the entire inheritance the children are to receive until they reach the legal age as stipulated in the Will. You will also be awarded a nice little chunk each month that will help you provide for the children until they reach the age of eighteen."

I shake my head. "We don't need that shit. I can provide for them."

Exasperated, the woman places her pen on the desk and removes her glasses from her face. "Look, Mr. Cullen," the woman says, placing her fingertips at her temples. "I'm sure that this must be very hard for you and a bit overwhelming. I mean losing your brother and all, but I'm only trying to do what is says in his will. If you choose not to utilize the monthly stipend, that's up to you. Either way, the money will be deposited into the account that has been set up for the benefit of the children. So, as soon as you're done signing the guardianship forms I'll take you to see the children."

I take a deep breath and sign the last form, successfully not having a complete heart attack.

Following Ms. Jenks downtown to the Children's Services Department has my nerve endings on fire. How the hell am I going to raise two small kids on my own because they sure as shit don't come with fucking instructions.

Parking alongside the attorney, I scrub my face and let out a long, shaky breath. "What the fuck am I doing?" I ask myself, closing the door to my rental.

"You ready, Mr. Cullen?" Ms. Jenks asks, smiling tightly at me as she leads me to the building.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

As we pass through the entrance, I'm fully aware of the attention I'm getting from various bystanders. And here I thought I looked pretty damn good dressed in a new pair of denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and my leather riding boots. _Normal_. Of course, there's the fact my beard was still a bushy mess and my hair is still a chaotic clusterfuck. Yeah, that shit hasn't changed over the years. No matter how many times I've tried to shellac the shit out of it, it still sticks up in a thousand different directions which personally pisses me off.

Making the short trip down the hall and around two corners, I find myself forgetting about the fucking disaster on top of my head as we enter a small room fit for entertaining children. Slowly stepping inside, the next thing I see almost fucks with my head.

Sitting on a small couch are two small children. I not able to get a good look at their faces as they sit cuddled up into next to each other. I know what that shit is like being so young and feeling lost and fucking alone. It's a knife to the gut. I know because I lived that shit every damn day of my childhood with a man that would've rather shipped my ass off to some remote piece of hell than be a father to me.

Ms. Jenks face softens as she takes in the two small children nearly glued to one another. "The little boy, Tyler, hasn't spoken since we brought him here. And Cassidy, well, she's only said a few words."

"How old are they?"

"Cassidy's ten and Tyler is four," Ms. Jenks replies.

"What about their mother?"

"What I gather about the mother is that she's no longer in the picture. Apparently, she left when Tyler was just one-year-old," Ms. Jenks began. "I've spoken to a few friends of your brother's that have told me the children's mother was very heavily into drugs and just up and left one day."

"Have the kids told you her name?"

I'm curious and have every right to be. I'm taking on something that I'm sure is going to drive me bat shit crazy in the long run and I want to know who this deadbeat baby mama is before she shows up on my doorstep one day in search of her kids.

Ms. Jenks sighs. "The only thing Cassidy has told me is that she doesn't remember much about her mother, and your brother, well, he never talked about her. There aren't any pictures of her either. It's pretty much like she never existed. So, don't worry. She can't do anything at this point. The judge was quick to make certain that if she tried to come back and contest guardianship at any time, it wouldn't be granted," she says in a reassuring tone, placing her small hand on my forearm. "She's not getting these kids."

Just a few hours ago I wasn't even sure that I wanted the kids. But whether I want them or not or whether I'm ready to become an insta-parent is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that the two of them don't deserve a drug addict for a mother and I'm damn sure gonna see that never happens.

Tyler and Cassidy. Those were the names of my grandparents, my father's parents. I think it's actually fitting for little brother to have named his children after them, considering our grandfather put Anthony's ass on the same pedestal our father did. Our grandmother, Liza, was another story. I'd always been her favorite.

"Let me introduce you."

As I slowly follow Ms. Jenks towards the two small children sitting in front of us, I realize that I know absolutely nothing about them. As far as I'm concerned all they do is eat, sleep, crap and scream. I don't know the first thing about taking care of kids. Hell, I killed that guinea pig I had a few years back, and don't get me started on that crazy cat that I gifted to Jasper's younger sister because that thing lost his damn mind one morning when he tried to impale me with his claws.

"Hey, guys," Ms. Jenks says in a low tone while the kids look at her with wide eyes. "There's someone I'd like you to meet. Actually, he's super exited to meet you."

I silently stand in front of them glued to my spot next to the woman, waiting for her to make the introductions. I'm not too sure how they're going to react to me seeing as though they've never met me before and more than likely never even knew that I existed up to until now. The whole situation is a fucked up mess.

"This man, right here," the attorney says, pointing to over to me. "This is your Uncle Edward. He's your dad's brother."

Cassidy is the first to acknowledge me. She eyes me closely, taking in my appearance, her grimace noticeable. Her mouth says nothing but her eyes speak volumes, and she looks like she's _not_ having any part of her current situation.

"We…we don't have any uncles," she replies, although it comes out more like a whisper. "And that's a stupid name."

"Yeah, it is kind of a stupid name," I reply, earning a sour expression from the girl.

I feel sorry for the young girl. For both of them. I know that none of what they are going through is easy and I also know that it will take moving mountains and grasping at straws to ease any of the pain either of the kids are going through, and for once in my fucking life I'm experiencing emotions that are foreign to me. Empathy, sympathy or any other 'pathy' has never been in my fucking vocabulary.

"Well, sweetheart," Ms. Jenks replies, kneeling down in front of the children and trying her damndest to toss them a genuine smile. "I guess today is your lucky day because that man is definitely your uncle. Would either of you like to say hello?"

"No. We don't have any uncles. We don't have any family." Cassidy gives me a sideways glance. "They're all dead. Just like our dad and probably our mom too."

My eyes immediately go wide as I take in Cassidy's features that seem to twist and turn with emotion. How am I going to get through to a kid like that? A kid who is without a doubt lost. I'm a fucked up position and am certain that I'm gonna fail them both.

"I don't…I don't think I can do this," I say, leaning in close to Ms. Jenks. "They deserve better. Better than what I can give them."

"You'll do fine, Mr. Cullen," Ms. Jenks replies, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Before I can utter any half-assed words of reassurance, the small boy who is wrapped in Cassidy's arms peeks over his own arm that was gently covering his face. I'm immediately crushed. The tears that stick to the little boys face makes my heart ache for the kid but more so seethe with fury at my brother for not being careful. Sure, it was a car accident. But _motherfuck_. Couldn't Anthony have been a little more cautious on the streets? He had kids to think about for fucks sake. I realize how idiotic I sound to myself. I know that it's my minds fucked up way of making things seem reasonable. But none of this shit makes any sense to me. _None of it_. It's a fuckin' mess.

I'm pulled back from my mental tirade when I feel a small tug on the hem of my t-shirt. When I look down a set of big, bright, blue eyes stare back at me, red-rimmed and full of tears. How can someone so small deal with shit this big?

 _I know how you feel, buddy._

"You know my daddy?" Tyler asks as tears slide down his pink cheeks.

I bend down so we we're eye level. "I'm his brother. Your uncle, Edward."

The small boy moves even closer to me, situating himself between my bent knees which damned near topples me. "My sissy says that daddy is in Heaven now. Do you know where Heaven is? I want to go see him. Can you take me to Heaven, Uncle Edward?"

For the first time in my adult life I'm at a loss for fucking words, and when the small boys tiny arms wrap around my waist it immediately makes me flinch because that kind of stuff scares the living shit out of me.

All of this is new to me, and something told me that I was royally fucked


	4. Honey, I'm Home!

**Chapter 3**

Honey, I'm Home!

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

I sit looking at all the boxes that are scattered around my new living room. The entire house is empty except the furniture and boxes that the movers had just delivered. The move from Georgia to Washington wasn't nearly as horrible as I'd thought it was going to be. Of course, there was the packing and now the unpacking that I _do_ _not_ want to deal with but regardless, I'm happy to start over and to finally be able to breathe.

Ninety days ago I was a happily married woman or at least living my idea of a happy marriage.

" _Where's Savannah?"_

 _Every Wednesday like clockwork and as if it'd been put into place since before any one of us were born, I've met up with the crème de la crème of Atlanta society which consists of four women, including myself. Savannah Cavanaugh, the mayor's wife, has more money than she could ever know what to do with and she's never let anyone forget it, and I'm pretty sure that she's used some of Mayor Cavanaugh's hard earned money to fund her salacious appetite for the male anatomy. More than one time I'd seen her dip inside of a car of that of a younger man, and more than once I've seen Little Miss Gold Digger walk up the steps of a few five star hotels on the arm of her latest conquest. As sickening as it is, I'm assuming the mayor is either dumb as a rock or he's oblivious to his wife's extracurricular activities._

" _The heifer should already be here but then again, she's probably banging some new piece of tail," Morgan replied with a nasty little curve of her lip. "That bitch is gonna get caught one day and I'm ready to reserve a front row seat for that shit parade."_

" _From what I hear she's gettin' it real good these days." Ava took a long pull of her Sangria._

 _Madison, the groups' voice of reason, piped in with a little religious relief. "Well, she needs to get right with God. She's going to burn in the pits of hell if she doesn't watch her rear."_

" _I'm not so sure that God, his son, or any of the angels can do anything to help that woman's soul," Morgan replied with another pull of her drink. "Trust and believe, I'm almost certain that the Mayor's dippin' his saggy pickle in a nice honey pot or two his damn self."_

 _Between Morgan, Madison, and Ava, none of them had any room to talk. Even though I can't prove it, I'm pretty sure they've tiptoed on the dark side of extramarital lovin'._

" _What do you think, Bella? Got your two cents to add in?" Ava asked. "With your stellar marriage you should have a thing or two to add to the pot."_

" _What's that supposed to mean?"_

" _Oh, nothing." Ava's inward, snarky grin grinds my insides. "I mean, we all know how_ perfect _James is."_

 _A cough and a couple muffled giggles sounded off throughout the group._

 _Irritation clawed its way up my spine, and I was nearly ready to shove my fist down the fake breasted asshat's throat. Everyone in the group knew that I wasn't bred of the same cloth as they were. Hell, that proverbial silver spoon was out of reach in my family. Born to two blue collar working class parents never gave me the option of the 'fortunate' life. Not that I'd ever wanted anything handed to me on a silver platter. To be honest, I loved my simple country life. Growing up a couple miles south of Atlanta, it was our little slice of Heaven. There wasn't anything that compared to jumping into a beefed up truck and going muddin' on a hot summer night or building a bonfire with old ass country music cranked up and a late night swim in Decker's Lake surrounded by my best friends. Yeah. There was nothing like it. My little bit of serenity wrapped up in a town with a population of four thousand twenty-five God fearing souls. School and football games during the week, innocent teenage fun on Saturdays and church on Sundays made that little town one of the most perfect places on earth to live._

 _That's until I met the man I would vow to spend the rest of my life with. The same man that made me fall in love with him with one genuine smile and the same man that shattered my heart in a matter of seconds._

" _Ava Louise, there are just a few things that we as Southern ladies need to keep our noses out of," Madison replied with a stiff cock of her brow. "And this would be one of those times. Nobody likes a_ Nosey Nellie _, Nellie."_

" _Hey! I'm not the one who's husband's bangin' that bitch," Ava replied, pointing her slender, well-manicured finger in Madison's direction and then turning her head toward me with her lips pursed. "Yes, I said it. Bella, your perfect spouse if fuckin' Mrs. Savannah Cavanaugh."_

 _It could've been the fact that Ava just sucker punched me with information that I was truly unprepared to receive or it could've been the fact that the ugly, stuffy, bitter bitch had it coming when her words spewed like venom as if she had been waiting to hurt me with every ounce of pain she could slap me with. Either way, it happened._

" _Jesus! I think you just broke her nose, Isabella!"_

" _Oh my God! Is it broken? Well, is it? Someone take me to Dr. Mallard's!"_

" _What in the everlovin' hell's goin' on over here?"_

 _As soon as her voice flitted around us and made a beeline for my ear canal, I began to see red. Anger reared her head as white, hot fire slithered through my veins, and I was certain that at that very moment and as soon as I threw the first punch, I was going to end up in jail._

 _Needless to say, Savannah Cavanaugh's perfectly sculpted face met my fist with one swift punch._

" _You're a sleazy no good fucking whore. You and James deserve each other," I said, straightening my back as I looked over Savannah's writhing body as she sprawled out on the floor, holding her eye and bled from her nose. As teasers started to slide down my cheeks, I knew that my marriage was over and things would never be the same. "Go fuck yourself."_

Realizing that I'd left my cell phone in my car, I trudge out to retrieve it. Stepping out on to the cobblestone walkway, I can't help but notice the house to my right. It isn't anything like mine. The yard is full of weeds with junk splattered around as if the lawn had thrown up car parts _. Disgusting people._ The sudden urge to throw on my old pair of sweats and ratty Kiss t-shirt and get to work on my neighbors craptastic mess of a yard overwhelms me but in the end, I think against it. Whoever lives there would probably be mortified if they found me elbows deep in weeding, and the only thing the realtor would tell me about my 'disorderly' neighbor was that he isn't one to mess with. That bit of information should've thrown me off from buying the house, but _damn_ if the price wasn't perfect and _damn_ if I wasn't out of the shit parade I'd left back in Georgia. No. This is a good thing. Lousy neighbors or not, this is a _damn_ good thing.

I've been at my new place for three days and haven't seen a single soul next door, coming or going. Maybe they got swallowed whole by the accumulating mess. Maybe, just maybe, they were taken over by a ruthless gang of rats inside the house, holding them hostage.

After snatching my cell phone from my car, I walk over to my cute, yellow mailbox and peeked inside. _Yeah, you're not loved. It's only junk mail and it has someone else's name on it._ Shrugging, I head back toward my new home with one last look over at my neighbor's yard and decide that come tomorrow I'd have a stern talking to the owner about a little clean-up expedition.

As I start back up the walkway I hear a blood curdling scream coming from next door. _What the hell?_ It's a child. A little girl. My feet move on their own accord, sending my ass down my driveway until I'm met by a small, crying child. I can't move, and I'm not sure if I should approach her or call 911. I make my decision and slowly I inch my way closer to the little girl, taking small steps so I don't scare her.

"Are you okay sweetie?" I ask, keeping my hands at my sides. "Do you need help? Where is your mom and dad?"

That one question only makes the little girl cry louder.

"What's your name?" I ask, closing in on the child's space, bending at the knee to get down to the little girl's level. "Can you tell me what happened so I can try and help?"

Before the little girl can say a word, the front door to the house crashes open. The sound of the solid oak door slamming open nearly scares me out of my own skin, making me pop up to my feet and move a few inches away from the child.

"Cassidy! Cassidy where are you?" A man's voice erupts at the entrance of my neighbor's home.

The little girl continues to sob, sitting up against an old oak tree in center of the front yard with her arms wrapped tightly around her body. "Go away!"

"This isn't a game, Cassidy! Come back inside."

"Leave me alone! I hate you!" the little girl screams out.

I have no idea what to do. I have the itching urge to grab the little girl and run as fast as my feet will take us from the man hovering in the door frame. The thought that he could more than likely take me down and probably feed me to his gang of house rats has me laughing inwardly at my idiotic thoughts, but what I see next nearly makes my head swim.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Standing tall, at least six-foot-two is the most breathtaking man I've ever laid eyes on. Dressed only in a pair of old sweats that hang low, very low, on his hips, he's shirtless and heavily tattooed from his chest to his arms. His pecks are insanely defined and his abs are as hard as a board. His dark hair is a shitty mess on top of his head, making my fingers twitch to touch every single strand. His arms are bigger than both of my damn thighs put together, and right about now all I want are my damn thighs spread as far apart as they can go and this beautiful man's face stuffed right between them. He oozes sex and I'm on the verge of combusting for some of that shit.

"Are you fucking deaf?" The man's voice rises as he snaps his fingers wildly in my face. "What are you doing on my property?"

"I'm your neighbor," I quickly answer trying to regain my composure without fumbling over my words. "I just moved in next door."

"And what? Decide you had nothing better to do than to trespass on my property? I could have you fucking arrested!"

"Well, I heard her screaming," I say, pointing to the small girl, "I came over to see what was going on. I was just trying to help."

The man continues to inch closer to me, and I watch as his eyes roam over my body. Suddenly I feel very exposed only wearing a pair of boy shorts and a thin, barely there tank top, as his deep blue eyes rake over my chest. I need to run fast and hard and get the hell away from him as quickly as possible. The heat is too much, intense and completely combustible.

"Let me tell you something, lady," he says as his nostrils flare with every breath he takes. "What goes on at my house is _my_ business. I _do not_ need you or anyone else butting in. Understand?"

"I…I'm sorry," I stumble over my words, looking up at him and then back to the girl. "I was just trying to help."

"Well don't," the man replies, causing my eyes to snap up and look him directly at his face. "Now, I would really appreciate it if you'd get your tight little ass out of my yard and stay the fuck away from me and mine."

Tears form behind my eyelids as acidic memories of my past punch me in the gut.

"Dude, you're an asshole! No wonder why that poor thing's screaming like a lunatic. I'd be screaming too if I had to live with you!" I yell, pointing my finger in his face. "Take care of your little girl because if I hear her scream one more time, I _will_ call the cops. Underfuckingstand _me_?"

"Leave!"

"Fine!"

"Bitch!"

"Go to hell, jackass!"

"Currently living in it, baby!"

"Asshole!"

As I stomp my way to my front door, I make it a point to flip the sexy maniac the bird, completely unlike me and at the same time making me feel like a total bad ass as I trudge my way up the stairs and straight to my bed. I hope that sleep will quickly pull me in and all thoughts of asshole neighbors will be saved for another day because the last thing I need is to fall asleep with blue eyes, tight abs and killer beards invading my dreams.

Boy was I in for a rude awakening.

Feeling defeated and exhausted, I snuggle deeper into my blankets, and as my lids get heavy and the house next door remains quiet, I drift off to sleep and dream of hot as sin neighbors with sparkling blue eyes.


	5. Green Eggs and Stale Bread

**Chapter 4**

Green Eggs and Stale Bread

* * *

 **Edward**

* * *

Loud screaming from the living room causes me to bolt out of bed. Not only does the shrieking wake my ass up from a dead sleep, it scares the absolute shit out of me. I quickly remember the little people that are currently taking up residence in my house when I hear another round of ear piercing yelling.

"No! No! No! I wanna go home!"

"This is your home now!"

"No! I hate it here! I want my daddy!"

"Daddy's dead!"

"No, he isn't! I hate you!"

I barrel my way down the stairs, and when I enter the living room, what I see next shreds my fucking insides.

"My daddy isn't dead!"

"Quit being a baby, Ty, and grow up!"

I blow out a harsh breath through my lips. I knew I was in over my fucking head the moment I agreed to take in my brother's kids, but small kids? Yeah, I was fucking delusional to think I could handle _this_ shit. As the screaming continues I can feel my head begin to throb and my ears feel like they're about to bleed if it continues.

"Enough!" As soon as my voice rises several octaves, the screaming stops only to be followed by soft sobs. I instantly felt like shit for yelling but I needed to get their damn attention. "What's going on in here?"

Tyler continues to cry as he sits huddled in a nearby corner with his sister hovered over him. I watch as several tears slip down her cheeks. God, I hate seeing them this way and I have no fucking idea how to help them.

When neither of the kids answers me, I decide that food might be the key. Maybe if they had some breakfast in them they might be more inclined to talk to me or at the very least feel a little bit better. I trudge my way to the kitchen and look through the cupboards. Nothing. I have food but nothing that's kid friendly. _Fuck_. I swipe open the refrigerator and suck in a breath. _Double fuck_. Beer, eggs, and a few pieces of outdated bread is all that's taking up space in the fridge. I decide to pull the bread and toss it on the counter, and I'm slightly thankful that it's only three days expired as I snatch the eggs from the shelf and place them next to the bread. I shake my head at my lack of fucking preparation. There's no doubt that I'm gonna to fail these kids, and I'm absolutely certain that if I don't haul ass to the grocery store and get some food in the house these poor kids are gonna starve to death.

"You guys hungry?"

I don't wait for a reply. I know they have to be hungry since neither of them ate a single bite last night when I stopped for burgers and fries.

"I'll make you guys some fried eggs and toast. I hope you like it cause' that's all I got right now. We'll go to the market later for some cereal and milk and other stuff we need."

I still don't want for them to respond and pull a skillet out of the oven and begin to crack a few eggs. I'm good with them not responding to me as long as they don't wither away to nothing on my watch. As the food cooks, I'm hyper aware of the kids still crammed into the corner like a couple of pretzels, except now Cassidy has Tyler in her arms as he continues to softly whimper into her side. It fucking crushes me to see it, and every time I hear that little boy cry, the urge to pummel my dead brother crawls over my skin.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when my cell phone begins to buzz. I look down at the caller I.D. thankful that it isn't Tanya… _again_. Last night, every hour on the hour, that bitch either called or texted. I'm going to have to set that broad straight and soon. When it finally registers who's trying to get a hold of me, I roll my eyes. Emmett, my best friend and business partner, is driving me fucking crazy. I'm convinced that if all hell broke loose that motherfucker wouldn't be able to run the shop on his own even if his life depended on it. I quickly press the silent button and lay my phone down on the cabinet. Dude knows that I'm dealing with some heavy shit right now and needs to get a handle on things on his own.

A knock on the door pulls me away from my thoughts _and_ the kitchen.

Passing by the kids another wave of guilt smacks me in the face. I need to figure this shit out and quick or Ms. Jenks might be inclined to find them another home, and that shit will not happen as long as I'm breathing. Another knock beats against my front door and when I open it a, I silently thank whoever will listen to me.

"I need a favor."


	6. Rough Riders and Sexy Machines

**Chapter 5**

Rough Riders and Sexy Machines

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

The thought of a job interview has me freaking out. I haven't worked since before me and James were married so my resume is severely lacking, to say the least, which causes a light smear of sweat to develop across my forehead.

Over the past couple weeks, I've filled out umpteen online job applications for local businesses around the area. I'd hoped to land something prior to moving to Washington, but every phone call and email I've received have been rejection after rejection until I came across a job listing for a receptionist. I knew that I was a good candidate, regardless of my sparse resume, because I'd actually had some past experience.

During my divorce proceedings, I'd opted not to receive alimony much to my counsel's objection. My attorney was seeking five thousand a month in alimony support payments but I denied it, saying that I could survive without the _bastard's_ money. Ultimately, I was awarded our summer house in the Hamptons and all its contents, along with my black BMW, and the jewelry my ex-husband had purchased for me. But prior to my move, I sold it all, giving some of the money to a charity and a local shelter for abused and battered women. James was none too happy with the news. He'd fought me tooth and nail but in the end, I won that fight. The only thing I owned that he couldn't fight me on was my 65' Mustang that I'd come into our marriage with. It was the last thing I had from my youth.

Before pulling out of the driveway, I chance a look at my neighbor's house. I momentarily wonder if everything's okay with the little girl I tried to help last night. And that man? For the love of Pete, he's a Grade A asshole. And where's the mother? The thought of running into the woman has me inwardly cheering because as soon as she hears how big of an ass hat her man was to me and their daughter last night, I have no doubt that fur is gonna fly inside that house. I shake my head and push the thought aside. I'm running entirely too late and I'll be damned if I let someone else snag this job before I even have the chance to fight for it.

The drive to Rough Riders Repairs & Customs isn't too far from my house, and I find myself pulling into the parking lot before I even have a chance to take in a few of the sights on my way. My eyes go wide when I see a group of motorcycles lined up in front of the building. There have to be at least seven of them, along with a few cars scattered about. _Maybe this place is run by a biker gang._ Even though the thought has me swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and grab my messenger bag before slipping out of my car and head for the entrance. The idea of working with a bunch of rough and rugged men with tattoos up to their necks has me chuckling because I've literally just described my neighbor.

I push my gray pencil skirt down and swing open the double glass doors. I take in my surroundings in awe of the beautiful machines. There are at least five custom motorcycles in pristine condition. The walls are scattered with various accessories; leather jackets, helmets, gloves, and clothing. I don't recall the job I applied for was at a motorcycle shop. I'm not against the idea but very curious about the other employees. As I slide my index finger across the leather seat of one of the bikes, a female voice calls out behind me.

"May I help you?"

I try to force a polite smile that doesn't resemble a pained look of constipation.

"I'm here for an interview with the manager for the open office position. My interview is scheduled for ten." I take in a much-needed breath and glance at the clock on the side wall noticing that I'm ten minutes early.

Recognition crosses the woman's features. "Right! You must be Isabella Swan," the woman replies, sticking her hand out with a kind smile. "I'm Georgia Nelson."

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Nelson and, please, call me Bella," I say, shaking the woman's hand. "Is the manager in by any chance?"

Smiling, Georgia throws her arms out to her sides. "You're looking at her, sweetheart. Shall we?" The woman announces, motioning down a short hallway.

Following behind Ms. Nelson, we enter a small office near the back of the building. "This is the boss man's office but some of us use it when we need to. Please, sit down."

Taking the seat offered to me, I sit across from the woman and place my hands in my lap. I take in the small space. It's a hot mess. Files and papers are tossed across the desk as if the office had vomited its contents everywhere. A multi-line phone is half hidden underneath the piles of papers, and a couple used, dirty coffee mugs are perched in various spots, one of them looking like it's seen better days. The office furniture doesn't fare any better as the only two chairs, including the one that my butt was taking up residence on, looks like they've been chewed up and spit back out.

"So, Bella, why don't you tell me a little about your experience," Georgia asks, taking a pen and paper in hand and begins to jot down some notes.

 _Um…well…gee…there was this one job. Jeez, who am I kidding?_

I clutch my resume in my hands and look up at Georgia. "To be honest, Ms. Nelson, I don't have a whole lot of experience. I mean, I did have a job or two that consisted of filing, answering phones, and data input but those were more along the lines of part-time employment. Not to mention, the last one was so long ago the owner's probably farting dust with nine toes in the grave by now." I clear my throat. "And it was also an internship, so I didn't get paid for it."

"And you have a sense of humor to boot. That's always a plus around here." Georgia eyes me comically and then smiles. "Do you have a copy of your resume?"

"I should warn you. I'm not very funny." I reply, placing my resume in her hand. "It's rather pathetic."

I sit frozen to my seat and wait for Georgia to go over my barely there employment history, and it doesn't escape my notice that her brows shoot up every so often.

 _Yeah, lady, I know what you mean._

As I twist my fingers together I can't help but wonder what I'll do if I don't land this job. Sure, I don't need the money right now. Hell, after I'd sold off my assets and put a small cushion away, I can live off of that for quite some time. Money isn't an issue. What I _am_ concerned about is my sanity. Having a job would help me get through the mental shit parade currently taking up space in my head. It would also keep my mind off the bullshit I've just gone through with James and provide an outlet instead of being behind four walls all day with nothing to do.

"Well, Bella, I must say, your resume looks pretty darn gloomy," Georgia replies with a smile.

My stomach begins to turn at the woman's assessment.

 _Fucking great! There goes another one._

"I'm going to be honest with you. I've interviewed several people for this position, and let's just say that their work histories were more than exemplary but their attitudes sucked ass to the point that I wanted to throat punch a couple of them."

At this point, I'm not sure if the woman sitting in front of me is even qualified to manage _any_ company by that statement alone. I shift uncomfortably in my dilapidated seat a few times before sweat starts to form heavily above my brows.

"But for some strange reason you," she says, pointing at me. "There's just something about you. Tell me. How many words can you type?"

The last time I took a typing test was back in high school and that's only because it was required for typing class which I learned very quickly was boring as all get out. "Sixty the last time I timed myself. I mean, I'm a little rusty, but I'm sure I can get back to speed."

"How are you with multi-line phones?"

"Pretty good. I helped with my hus…" I begin, stopping myself mid-sentence. "Look, I know my experience is less than stellar, but if you just give me a chance, I swear that I'll redeem myself."

"Something tells me that you mean exactly that." Georgia skims over the resume once more before looking up at me. "Tell me, why do you want this job? I mean, _really_ want this job?"

 _Here goes nothing._

I run my hands nervously down my skirt before letting out an audible sigh. I'd swore that I was going to keep my past in the past, and the hell if I was going to tell any potential employer about my failed marriage but I need this job. I need it like I need a lifeline. Without this job, or any job for that matter, I'm afraid that too much time spent dwelling in my own head might make for some long, lonely days or a psychotic break.

"Can I be totally honest with you?" I ask, looking up at Georgia as she sits back in her seat and motions for me to continue, her smile never fading. "I don't need this job. Well, I do but I don't. At least not financially. It's more of a want. I know that makes me sound high-risk, but I want this job more than anything."

The word vomit continues as I immediately break my promise I'd made to myself.

"I just moved from Atlanta, Georgia, coming out of a very nasty marriage and the thought of sitting in my house all day with nothing to do drives me crazy just thinking about it. I don't even have a goldfish to keep me company." I look up at the woman, noticing a familiar emotion cross her face. With a fierce determination, I sit up straight in the chair and look her in the eyes. "I will be here every day, learn what I may not already know, and do the best damn job that I am asked to do. Please. All I need is a chance."

Georgia clicks her pen on the desk top as she moves forward and places her elbows on the desk. She glances over the resume again more for good measure and looks back at me.

"I must say, Bella, you disclosed more personal information than I was ready for," She chuckles which only makes my stomach turn. I let out a big sigh and wait for the inevitable rejection. "But, I do admire your honesty and determination."

"George! Did ya bring the donuts? I need my fritter, woman."

My head whips around to find the biggest bear of a man standing in the doorway **.** He's attractive with sparkling blue eyes and his dimples are fierce. He's heavily covered in tattoos that sleeve his arms from wrist to collar bone, and he's dressed in a Harley Davidson t-shirt with a pair of stone washed jeans, complete with a pair of black boots, and the only piercings I can see are in both of his ears. But what really catches my attention is his mammoth size.

 _Crickets and assholes, he's fucking huge!_

"How many times have I asked you not to call me George? Do I look like a damn George to you?" Georgia chastises the man, forcing me out of my constant staring.

"Don't get your bloomers in a twist, woman," the man replies, smiling like a buffoon. "Has that bastard called yet?"

"No, he hasn't. I talked to him yesterday but he didn't say that he'd be in today or not."

The man slams his palm flat against the desk. "Well, ain't that some bullshit! He needs to get his ass in here and help with Aro's chopper. The fucker's relentless and has specified that _dipshit himself_ needs to be the one to finish the frame work."

"I'll call him, but with everything that's been going on, I'm not even sure if he'll answer," Georgia says, giving me a small, apologetic smile. "Do you want me to try and get a hold of him?"

I sit and listen to the exchange, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and extremely invisible.

"Nah, I'll just go over there and drag him in here by his nut sack," the man says, glancing toward me, smiling a toothy grin. "Well, hey there, tutz."

 _I'm invisible...I'm invisible…I'm not invisible._

"Lookin' to get a bike, sweetheart?"

"Quit being an idiot, Emmett, and meet Rough Riders newest employee, Bella Swan," Georgia announces, motioning her hand between us. "Bella, meet Emmett McCarty, co-owner of this fine establishment."

"Well, tickle my pickle and call me Nancy! Your ass finally hired someone." Emmett bellows, holding out his hand for me to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, tutz."

"Likewise, Mr. McCarty," I reply, holding out my hand for the man to shake.

"Oh, no. That shit will just not fucking do. In this shop, you can call me as Emmett, E., or Big Daddy. Mr. McCarty was my father. A rotten son of a bitch to boot. Have you not schooled this pretty, little thing yet, George?" he asks, giving Georgia the stink eye.

"I just hired her, you horses ass, and my name isn't George. Now get the hell out and let me do my job," Georgia scolds, scowling at the big oaf.

"Listen, baby girl." Emmett kneels down beside me, making me flinch. "Easy, tutz, I'm not gonna touch you. However, there _are_ some idiots up in here that don't know how to watch their tongues, or their hands, when pretty, little ladies are present, and with legs like those you're bound to get some gawkers. If you have _any_ problems at all," he says, looking at me pointedly, exaggerating his words as he shakes his head; not an ounce of humor in them. "You just come tell Big Daddy and _I'll_ take care of that shit."

Before I can get a word in, Emmett's phone rings.

"It's about motherfucking time! Where the hell are you?" he roars into the phone, popping up to his feet and exits the office.

"He has no filter," Georgia says as she shakes her head. "Now, where were we?"

"I think you just hired me." I nearly bounce out of my seat with excitement and hope like hell I wasn't hearing things.

"You are absolutely correct," Georgia confirms, stretching her hand out to me. "Congratulations, and welcome to Rough Riders."

"Why?

I'm not really sure why I asked but I know if I hadn't it would've bothered me not knowing.

"Well, to be honest, you had me at Georgia," she said with a genuine smile.

"Excuse me?"

"You said that you were from Georgia. My name's Georgia. It's a sign. You belong in this nut house."

Both of us start to laugh and, in that moment, things were starting to look up.


	7. This Poo's For You

**Chapter 5**

This Poo's For You

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

After the necessary documents are filled out, I follow beside Georgia as she shows me around the building. Giving me the grand tour, she points out the employee restroom, saying that it would be highly recommended to use the toilet seat protectors. Apparently, the men see no need to protect their bits and pieces let alone anyone else's. This tidbit of information makes me cringe. I'm also shown the employee lounge that basically consists of a table, a fridge, and a microwave. Oh, and several pictures of half- naked women in various positions draped over motorcycles.

"Does that ever bother you?" I ask, pointing to the posters.

"Sweetheart, if half these men up in here were anywhere near _those_ women, they'd probably piss themselves," she replies, pointing to the provocative posters." Besides, all that is just silicone and collagen and maybe a little rubber."

The both of us laugh as we make our way to the backside of the building and through a large metal door where five other men, including 'Big Daddy', are elbows deep in grease. There are several different classic cars, some hoisted on lifts while others are stationed on the ground. Off to the far end is a variety of motorcycles, a couple of which were torn down to nothing but the frames.

Georgia begins the introductions to the other employees, and it didn't escape my notice that all of them were very attractive. Some look as if they'd just walked out of a prison, sheathed in a plethora of tattoos, while a select few look like they belong in an office.

I'm introduced to Paul first. I'm told that he's was the best at what he does. Apparently, he can assemble a bike engine quicker than anyone in the county. He's rather attractive, quiet, and very polite.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Paul's greets me with a smile before he continues with his work.

Then there's Tyler. His appearance is more rugged than Paul's. His arms and neck are covered several tattoos while his face dons an eyebrow piercing, a lip piercing, and the holes in his ears resemble something out of a _National Geographic_ magazine.

Standing next to a 79' Camaro is another guy, younger looking than the rest, watching intently as a dark haired man moves around the engine compartment of an older vehicle. I watch the pair as the older of the two shows the younger gentleman the tricks of the trade.

"That's Seth," Georgia points out. "And standing next to him is Jacob Black. Seth is his younger brother and is also an intern here at the shop. Jacob is the best when it comes to the classics."

I smile at Georgia and continue to watch the activity in the room, and as soon as the next words leave her mouth my face quickly flushes.

"Boys?" she calls out, garnering everyone's attention with eyes up front. "I'd like you all to meet Ms. Swan. She's our new receptionist. Please show her the same respect that you show me or I'll give her the run down on how to junk punch you all," she warns, lifting a brow to the group.

"Not all of us are savages, Georgia."

As soon as I hear it, that rough, familiar voice, my heart begins to race and I suddenly wish that the ground would swallow me up.

"Boss! It's good to have you back," Georgia says. "C'mere, I'd like you to meet someone."

 _Oh, God, please don't._

"Bella, I'd like you to meet Edward Cullen, owner of Rough Riders and your new boss," her voice sings out. "Boss, meet Bella Swan, your new receptionist."

I instantly feel ill as I turn around and try to keep the inevitable vomiting at bay. The nausea rolls and rips through my body as I stare at the face of my pissy, stubborn neighbor. Oh, no. Not just my neighbor. Nope. Edward Cullen, my neighbor from hell, is also my new boss. _How the hell did this happen?_ I'm glued to my spot, as that question bounces around in my head, and wait impatiently for someone to jump out and reveal that I'd been punked. I'm fully aware of the stares that are coming from all sides of the room. Prying eyes at their best. With sweat pellets forming above my brow, my feet begin to move on their own accord.

"Excuse me, please."

 _This can't be happening! He cannot be my fucking boss!_

I hurry down the hall and try to remember where the employee restroom is. When I finally find it, I throw open the door, close it behind me and try to calm my nerves. As panic crawls through my veins, I stand with my back against the restroom door. A pungent odor assaults my senses, causing my eyes to slowly travel around the small space. The smell of urine wafts through my nose, attacking every available membrane. There are discarded pieces of toilet paper splayed around the area while the sink is smeared with grease and God knows what else. When my eyes land on the toilet I just about lose the contents of my stomach. As if things can't get any worse in the 'Bathroom From Hell', I'm greeted with the sight of an unflushed toilet. Suddenly, I realize that my hands are plastered on the wall on either side of me, as I stare at an offending pile of poop. I can almost hear the theme song from the movie _Psycho_ playing in the background.

 _Holy mother of God! Who does that?_

Feeling my stomach lurch, I swing the restroom door open, smacking straight into something soft. My eyes snap up to meet a pair of smoky, gray eyes belonging to a handsome blonde as the awful stench continues to punch at me.

"Well hello there, darlin'," the man says in a Southern accent. "Name's Jasper Whitlock."

 _Goddamn, 007, move!_

"Trashcan!" is all I can manage to say as I hold one hand on my stomach and throw the other one up to my mouth.

Spotting a trash can off to the side of the hallway, I charge toward it, shoving my face down into the top, releasing my morning bagel and cup of coffee I'd had for breakfast.

"Jesus, darlin', you okay?" Jasper asks with wide eyes as panic laces his gentle voice.

As my stomach grumbles and rocks, I stand straight up, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and stare at Jasper before speaking as calmly as I can. "Someone has taken a large shit in _that_ restroom and did not flush." As quickly as the pains, lurching, rolls and grumbles hit my stomach, I thrust my face right back into the top of the can.

The soft pressure of a hand pressed at the small of my back makes me jump and causes me to knock the can over in the process.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Jasper asks. "Do you need a doctor?"

I shake my head animatedly and hold on to my upset stomach.

"Motherfucker! What in the fuck is that smell?" Emmett bellows, scanning his surroundings. "Is that? Is that puke? And part of a bagel?"

Jasper nods his head.

"And why does it smell like _shit_ in here? Did someone take a _shit_ in the hallway?" Emmett roars, pinching his nostrils together as he searches the floor for any evidence. "Dear, sweet baby Jesus, that stinks!"

"What's going on ov… _what_ is that? It smells like someone blew their butthole out. What the hell, Emmett, did you throw up?" Georgia shrieks, fanning her face as she points to the poor bagel laying on the floor. "I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you threw up at the smell of poop but did you?"

Emmett swings his body around and glares at the accusing woman. "No, I did not fucking throw up! I am a man for God's sake! The smell of shit does not bother me, Georgia. I…" he says pointing to himself. "I can deal with a little bit of _shit_."

"Oh yeah?" Georgia folds her arms in front of her. "What about that time when…"

"Woman! If you like your job you will not say another damn word," Emmett punches out the words as his face suddenly falters with his eyes screwed shut and his lips pursed. "Hmph. I think. _Goddamn_. Yeah, that shit stinks."

"Oh, man, you're turning green," Jasper whispers. "Ya need the trash can?"

I watch the entire travesty play out in front of me. Why in the blazing hell couldn't I have just walked out the front door? I could've turned the job down, claiming that it really wasn't for me. At least that way I would've been able to hold my head high. But now? Now I'm stuck standing in the middle of three people I'd just met, making a complete ass out of myself.

 _Well, Swan, you really did it now._

Before I can stew in my own pool of pity a loud voice booms behind me, causing me to flinch.

"What in the _hell_ is going on over here?"

"Wait! Wait! You're gonna step…" Georgia yelps a minute too late as her last words come out in a low whisper, "…in it."

I slowly turn around and witness Edward, my wretched neighbor, and owner of this loony bin, step right in a mixture of trash and vomit.

"Aw, man, that fuckin' sucks." Emmett's laugh is so loud it reverberates off the walls and bounces around every surface until it smacks me square in the forehead, causing tears to prick at my eyes.

"May I ask why I am standing in fucking vomit!"

 _Oh, well, yes you may. It turns out that I am a total ass hat that cannot control her stomach at the sight of male dookie sitting pretty in a toilet. Thank you very much._

"And who the fuck shit themselves!"

Three sets of eyes dart around the room until Emmett's gaze lands on me. "Tutz over there got sick."

Edward's eyes snap in my direction. His face showing a look that I can't place, while he runs a hand roughly through his hair.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking down at me.

Before I can think of any words to say, I realize I'm running for the door. Tears flow down my cheeks as quickly jump into my car and the engine roars to life.

Many hours later I'm showered, fed, and sprawled out on my living room couch, working on my fifth glass of wine. Call after call, my cell phone continues to ring and hasn't quit since I left Rough Riders. When I finally check my messages they are all from Georgia with the exception of one.

 **7:00 p.m.**

 **Hey, Bella, this is Georgia over at Rough Riders. Please give me a call when you can.**

 _Nopes. Not hapssening._

 **7:20 p.m.**

 **Hey, Bella, it's Georgia again. I hope you're doing okay. Please call me back.**

 _Fat chance, George!_

 **7:45 p.m.**

 **Hey, tutz, Big Daddy here! So check it out. I know that you got sick and all that but don't let it keep you from still taking the job. You're cool as fuck and we need you. And by the way, I took care of the puke. You owe me big. Just kidding.**

 _Spanks for the support Big D. Oh, shit. Who cares!_

 **8:10 p.m.**

 **Okay, Bella, this is my last attempt at calling. I hope that you're feeling better. Anyway, the job is still yours if you want it. If so, meet me in the office tomorrow morning. I usually get in at nine. Oh, before I forget, Emmett threatened that if I didn't give him your number he'd rip off my nipples and feed them to the cat in the alley. I wouldn't put it past him. Okay, well, talk to you later. Feel better!**

 _Ugh!_

 **8:30 p.m.**

 **Bella. It's Georgia again. Call me. Bye.**

 _Nope!_

Creeping up on my seventh glass of wine, I begin feeling all kinds of goodness as I snap my phone shut and toss it on the floor. I slowly sit up and pull my silk robe off my shoulders. Wearing only a pair of black lace boy shorts and a black lace cami, I steadily traipse over to the stairs, attempting to climb up to my bedroom. Once I make it to the staircase my doorbell begins to ring.

 _Wonderfuckingful!_

"Who's it?"

There's no answer only the sound of the doorbell again.

"Go away!"

The doorbell blares out again, causing me to groan out loud. "Hold the fuck on!"

With my wine glass in hand, the liquid swishing and sloshing, I slowly stagger to the front door, never bothering to throw my robe back on.

"What do you wa…?"

At that moment, as soon as I see who's on the other side of the door, everything around me stops. In all my half naked glory I stand, leaning against the door frame, staring into a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

"Holy shit," Edward whispers, raking his hand through his wild locks. His eyes wide and become instantly dark. "You…um… _fuck_."

I stare at my next door neighbor, my breathing labored as I take in his appearance.

Son of a bitch he is fine. His dark hair is a fuck hot mess, sticking up radically in every which direction, causing my fingers to automatically twitch. The urge to reach out and run my fingers through that sexy mess is consuming. The sight of his white tank top tightly hugged his chest, defining his pecs, starts to make my mouth water. _Fuck_ _that is so sexy._ My eyes trail down his rock hard torso and land on his jean covered crotch that, if I'm being honest, looks pretty damn tempting. When my gaze lands on his face, back to his deep pools of blue, I realize he's staring at me, too.

"What do you want?" I ask, taking a long sip of my drink.

"I…um…" he starts, his eyes still raking over my nearly naked form. "I just came over to see…um…see how you're doing."

I chuckle, lifting my wine glass up. "I'm doing just _peeshy_!"

Edward smiles at me and shakes his head. "I can see that."

"So, now that you've seen for yourself," I reply, swaying from side to side, " _You_ can get the fuck off _my_ property. Buh bye!" I pop my hand up and I at him, wiggling my fingers, and then flip him the bird.

"Wait, I…"

My head becomes a little too fuzzy as I try to shut the door on my asshole neighbor. When I have it almost closed, my toes get caught on the entry rug, causing me to lose my balance. My glass of wine goes flying across the foyer and into the living room, shattering against the hardwood floor. Before I can scream out, reach for some kind of support, or have time to process the mess of the situation, I feel two strong arms grab me around the waist as my body is pulled into Edward's hard chest. Holding me tight in his arms, I grip onto his firm, muscled forearms, and my nipples instantly hardened from the contact of his warm chest. A tightening begins to bubble in the pit of my stomach as his minty fresh breath washes over my face and neck, and his breathing begins to hitch.

 _You are so purdy._

Unconsciously, I lick my lips as I look up into his eyes. They're extremely intense as they bore into my skin, causing my entire body to ignite. A pool of moisture gathers between my legs, causing me to shift my hips around. The need for contact and friction is real as I squeeze my legs together. I let out a soft moan that catches Edward's attention.

"You okay? Can you stand?" he asks, gazing down at the tops of my partially exposed breasts.

I pull in a deep breath and nod as Edward tries to steady me.

"You got it?" he asks, watching me to sway a bit.

"I got it." Although I try to reassure him that I'm okay, once I begin to move my feet, I sway a little too much, and in a split second my body is falling sideways, heading straight for the same fate as my wine glass.

"Jesus, shit!" Edward yelps, reaching out to stop my fall _again_ **.** "Goddamn, woman. You're gonna break your ass."

Held firmly in his arms, my eyelids open halfway. "What do you care?"

"If you only knew," he whispers. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

 _Wait! What?_

Edward must have noticed my panicked expression as I do the drunk wiggle in his arms.

"Calm down, woman," he growls, gripping my body tighter. "If I let you take yourself to bed, you're liable to crash down the fucking staircase."

When we're halfway up the stairs, I allow my head to rest in the crook of Edward's neck. The woodsy, earthy scent that's emanating off him wafts around my nose, causing me to lightly moan. The urge to kiss his neck is right at the top of my bucket list.

My thought process is shot to shit once Edward lays me on my bed, pulls the covers back, and throws them across my body. I feel his finger trace from my temple to my lips. I don't pull back. I just feel, and _damn_ if it doesn't feel amazing.

I breathe out and snuggle further into my pillows, and before sleep takes over, the last words I hear whispered close to my ear cause a smile to tug at the corners of my mouth.

"Goodnight, beautiful Bella."


	8. Exit Stage Left

**Chapter 7**

Exit Stage Left

* * *

 **Edward**

* * *

"Morning Boss!" Georgia greets me as I enter the break room. "Coffee?"

"Yeah. Black," I grumble unable to deal with her perky attitude. "Emmett here yet?"

Georgia shakes her head. "He called and said that he's running a half hour late. He should be here soon. By the way, I tried to call Ms. Swan last night but she didn't answer. I'm guessing after what happened she isn't going to take on the job after all. So I guess it's back to more boring ass interviews."

I let my mind drift back to the memory of the beautiful woman I held in my arms last night.

 _What the fuck? Get your head out of your ass Cullen. You don't need any more distractions._

I scrub my palms down my face, blowing out a hard breath through my nose. How could I let that bitchy ass woman get to me so easily? We're polar opposites, and I'm almost sure that she listens to those goofy boy bands or some shit like that. Plus, she's a clean freak. Her house is a hell of a lot cleaner than mine and I'm pretty sure that she'd be disgusted if she ever laid eyes inside my place. Which reminds me, I may need to hire one of those cleaning services. I lean back against the counter and remember how organized Bella's things were when I was helping her up to her bedroom. The woman even had her clothes neatly laid out for the next day, folded on a chest at the foot of her bed. Who does that shit nowadays? Hell, all I do is reach in my closet and pull out the first thing that I can find. Although, my ass has also been known to pull something out of the hamper and wear it without it even being washed. No. That woman is completely out of my league and most importantly, she is definitely a Class A bitch.

But _goddamn_ those legs. Hot. As. Fuck. I can absolutely see them draped over my shoulders as I bury my face between her thighs. Just thinking about tasting her makes my cock stir.

She isn't like any of the women I've ever been with. She's different, I can tell, and that piece of info has me curious as fuck. The bitchy broad has gotten to my head and that shit won't fly especially with my new responsibilities at home. _Cassidy and Tyler_. They'd come into my life so abruptly. My head's still reeling over the fact that I'm a single bachelor one day and a caretaker to two orphaned children the next. I'd never thought of having children of my own, let alone taking care of someone else's. I was always too afraid that I'd end up becoming like my father. It was easier to just put the thought of having kids out of my mind as quickly as it appeared.

Cassidy is still put off by the whole change and hardly speaks to me. On the other hand, I think Tyler is starting to warm up to me. Last night he found his way to the couch where I was watching T.V. and crawled up to lay next to me. I have to admit it, those two are seriously growing on me. They're family and there isn't anything at this point that I wouldn't do for those two kids.

Then there's Tanya. We both came to an understanding from the get go that a serious relationship wasn't in either of our agendas. She likes her freedom to do as she pleases and so do I. I like being single, seeing whomever I want, and going home at night without the persistent nagging of a girlfriend _or_ a wife. Well, that was until a certain bitchy neighbor walked into my life.

 _I am so fucked._

"Good morning."

My eyes snap up when Bella walks into the break room. Wearing a pair of tight blue jeans that hug her ass, a white cotton v-neck t-shirt, and some white Chuck's, I silently curse under my breath as I feel everything below my waist stand at attention.

"Morning."

It doesn't take much for me to know that I need to get the fuck away from this woman as soon as possible, or at least for the remainder of the day. "I'll be in my office, Georgia."

Bella looks up at me as I walk by her and out of the door. "Well, so much for pleasantries," she says, and I watch her give Georgia a tight- lipped smile. Her next words don't go unnoticed as she says under her breath, "Won't be making that mistake again."

I close my eyes and blow out a breath as I shut the door behind me. I know it was a dick move not acknowledging her, not to mention very unprofessional, but I can't let her get to me. My main focus is on those kids and what in the hell I'm going to do next.


	9. Your Food Is Beeping

**Chapter 8**

Your Food Is Beeping

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

"You came back!" Georgia all but blurts out as I walk through the door to the break room. "Thank Jesus. I was beginning to panic."

"Well, don't get too cozy with the idea. If I keep getting that kind of welcome," I reply with a smile, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder just as Edward walks out. "I may just rethink my decision."

Before I can protest, Georgia walks over to me and throws her arm around my neck. "Don't let the exterior fool you, honey. I think you might just be the first woman to ever get under the skin of one Edward Cullen, and I do mean this in a good way."

"Yeah. Between you, me, and the walls, he's a turd, but I need this job. So I'll deal with it," I say placing my lunch in the refrigerator and then closing the door. "Now, what do ya got for me?"

The morning went off without a hitch, shit or vomit. Georgia and I worked closely together as she showed me where all of the office supplies are, going over customer accounts for me to familiarize myself with, along with the daily planner. After dotting all the I's and crossing all the T's, Georgia left me on my own to begin a few customer accounts that needed to be updated.

By lunchtime, I realized that I hadn't seen my 'boss' since he ran out of the break room like a bat out of hell. I can't help but wonder if he's been avoiding me all day. He _had_ gone over to my house last night and took care of me when he clearly didn't have to. Not to mention, he was the perfect gentleman, having kept his hands to himself. Whatever the reason for his disappearing act, I don't allow myself to dwell on it. I have a job to do, and I'm sure as hell not going to let Edward Cullen get under my skin.

Deciding that it's a good time to take my lunch break, I grab my iPod and head for the break room. Luckily, I find the small space to be unoccupied so I retrieve my left over chicken Fettucini from the refrigerator and toss it in the microwave. As I wait for my food to warm, I sit back in one of the chairs, pop my ear buds in, and close my eyes.

" _Damn you are extremely sexy in that."_

 _She turned around to see him standing in the doorway of her bathroom, hands propped up against the door frame, wearing only a pair of low rise sweats that showed off the delicious V below his navel._

" _Do you know what you do to me, baby?"_

 _Her heart began to hammer in her chest as she gazed at the fuck hot man in front of her._

" _The things I want to do to you should be considered illegal."_

 _Her breathing hitched as he came up behind her and slid his hand up her side, causing goose bumps to pebble up over her delicate skin and a blush to rise up her neck._

" _I love it when you do that."_

 _She could feel his hard length press against her ass through the silky fabric of her panties as he kissed the sensitive skin below her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine._

" _Do you like feeling my hard cock pressed against your beeping?_

 _What the hell?_

" _Your food is beeping."_

 _Huh?_

" _Beeping, your food is beeping."_

I shift in the chair as my eyes spring open to see Edward standing over me.

"Your food is beeping in the microwave," he says, motioning to the noisy machine. "You might want to check it."

Shaking the fog from my head, I get to my feet and scurry over to find my lunch sizzling away.

"Shit!" I yelp as I grab the scorching dish, dropping it onto the floor. "Damn it!"

"Holy shit, woman, you alright?" Edward asks, grabbing my hand and examining it carefully. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine. It was just a little hot."

Edward looks over my hand for any injuries the hot dish may have inflicted. Seeing none, he brings me over to the sink and runs my hand under cool water to soothe the burning.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again, looking down at me with his hand still holding mine.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

I feel Edward's eyes glued to me as I try to will away the fluttering that's taken up residence in my belly. I'm not stupid. I know exactly what that feeling means and I hate it. I hate the fact that I'm obviously attracted to Edward Cullen and no amount of denying it will change it.

Edward's eyes flickered from my lips to my eyes and back again. "I'll have Georgia fill out an incident report on this. But if it starts to bubble, you need to get it checked out. I'll foot the bill." I notice his nostrils flare and his chest heave every time he takes a breath, which causes a scorching heat to ignite between my legs.

 _God, I want to hate him._

The situation is becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second and, in the midst of my complete idiocy and Edward trying to help, I hadn't realized that the two of us are now close enough that I can feel his hot, minty breath wafting across my nose.

With Edward still holding my hand, the bubble that seemed to encase us is suddenly burst as a loud, booming voice sounds near the door. "I am fucking starving!"

I quickly jump back as Emmett enters the small space.

"Fuck, I could eat the ass end of a skunk right about now!"

A small, nervous chuckle tumbles from my lips at the absurdity of the over grown ape-man. "If you're eating skunk ass then I think this is my cue to hightail it out of here."

"Do you have to be disgusting, Em?" Edward asks.

"Only for you sweet cheeks!" Emmett smiles before tossing me a wink. "Hey, tutz, good to see ya again."

"Likewise," I reply.

"No more doo-doo dilemmas today?" he asks with a chuckle. "Cause that _shit_ was nast-ta-hay!"

"Emmett, shut the fuck up," Edward shakes his head before turning just as I slip out the door. "Nice, dick. Way to go."

"What?" Emmett replies, throwing his palms up. "She can't still be upset about that shit. Can she? I mean, that shit was gross, but it was funny as hell."

I lean my ear up against the door, hoping like hell neither of them opens it and catches me eavesdropping.

"You better hope she doesn't decide to walk out again," Edward warns. "We need her ass here."

I hear footsteps nearing the door right before I hear Emmett let out a boisterous laugh. "Well, well, well. You got it bad, dude."

What the fuck are you talking about?" I hear Edward ask. "Got what?"

"You got it bad for Miss Swan," Emmett replies. "It's written all over your face, brother."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Edward says just as I hear the handle jiggle. "Get back to work."

Before I give Edward a chance to catch me, I haul ass around the corner and back toward my office, and for the rest of the day, Emmett's words play on a loop as concentration evades me.


	10. Regret Can Come Later

**Chapter 9**

Regret Can Come Later

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

The next two days have gone by a lot smoother than I'd expected them to. I haven't seen Edward since our run in the other morning in the break room. Even though I'll probably never admit it, I'm slightly disappointed. When I'd asked Georgia why he'd gone ninja, she mentioned that he had to go out of town on business for a few days. That's probably why I haven't heard him or his kids running amuck next door. By Friday, there was still no sign of him, and after closing up for the night, I accepted an invitation from my co-workers to have drinks at the town's local bar.

Emmett and I are the first to arrive at the Twilight Tavern. Being as it's the only drinking hole in town, it serves as a dance club as well. Sitting in a corner booth, searching the crowd and observing the people that currently occupy the space, I quickly realize that most of the patrons are dressed in leather and realize that it's a biker bar.

"So, tutz, what's it gonna be?" Emmett asks. "Are you a hard liquor girl, a piss beer kinda gal, or a fruity tutee princess?"

"What the hell is a fruity tutee?"

"You know, those fruity, colorful, girly drinks with umbrellas," Emmett replies.

"How about," I say, tapping my finger on my chin, "…something that doesn't taste too much like liquor. My tolerance for alcohol is pretty limited."

"Fruity it is. Don't worry, tutz. I'll fix ya right up," Emmett replies with a wink. "By the end of the night, you'll be looser than a hooker at a pimp convention."

As I sit and wait for Emmett to return, a couple of familiar faces round the corner of the booth. Paul's grin doesn't reach his eyes. Tyler, on the other hand, has the side of his face glued to his cell phone, scowling as his conversation takes on a life of its own. I'm almost convinced that the guy probably never smiles, and when I look over at Jacob the expression on his face is hard to decipher.

"Hey, Bella," Paul greets me as he takes a seat at the table. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Just waiting for Emmett to get back with drinks."

"I don't give a shit, Lauren!" Tyler sneers into his phone. "I know you're fucking lying to me. People saw you, _Lauren_. Why would they lie? Tell me! Why would they all lie?"

"He heard his girlfriend's been cheating on him," Paul says in a hushed tone as he leans in close to my ear, the nearness making me uneasy. She's a piece of work."

I can't help and notice Paul's gaze travel from my neck down to the top of my cleavage.

"Shit!" Tyler snaps as he angrily slams his phone on the tabletop and then runs his hands through his hair. "Does she think I'm a fucking idiot? I'll show her a fucking idiot when I chuck her shit out onto my front lawn."

Jacob bows his head and starts to chuckle. "You are an idiot, a fuckin' dumb shit for that matter. Every time you two fight, you always take her back. You act like her pussy is made of gold. Trust me, brother, no pussy is golden."

As the testosterone fest continues, I inwardly wish Georgia would magically appear.

"What the fuck ever, Jake. At least I get pussy," Tyler grumbles, flying out of the booth, and heads for the bar.

"Yeah, contaminated pussy is what you've been getting!" Jacob shouts. "He's such a chick. Sensitive asshole. He needs to change that fucking tampon of his."

"You're one to talk. Maybe you should leave him alone, Jacob. You're always razzing his ass," Paul replies. "You'd feel the same way if you were in love."

"Says the guy who hasn't had a woman in what, two years? Isn't that right, Paul? Besides, what do you know about love? As I recall…" Jacob trails off.

"Watch yourself, Jacob," Paul warns with a steely expression. "You don't know shit about my personal life so watch it."

"I know more about your life than _you_ probably do, personal or otherwise. So unless you want people to know _your_ sorry ass business, you'd better watch how you talk to me," Jacob sneers before getting up from the booth and looking over at me. "Be careful, Bella."

Before Paul can get another word in, Jacob is out of his seat, disappearing around the corner, leaving me with an uneasy feeling as I'm left alone with Paul.

With his hands folded on the table, Paul regards me without giving me so much as a sideways glance. "Sorry about my cousin's shitty attitude. He doesn't have a filter."

"What did he mean by _be careful_?"

"Nothing. He's just pissed at me. It's nothing."

As the minutes tick away, with no sign of Georgia or Emmett, Paul begins his version of Twenty-One Questions. He asked me where I was from, what brought me here, and if I like my new position at Rough Riders. I give him as much information I think will suffice without giving away too much. I've never been much for gossip, especially when it's about me. Not to mention, the comment Jacob made has certainly made me think before I divulge certain information to Paul.

I breathe a sigh of relief when Emmett arrives back to the table, drinks in hand, and a huge smile on his face. Standing next to him is a very beautiful, tall, blue-eyed blonde, dressed in a pair of tight low-rise jeans and a white t-shirt tied in a knot above her navel. On the front of the shirt are the words Twilight Tavern.

"Here ya go, tutz. This one will put some hair on your ass," Emmett says, thrusting a large, light brown drink at me, with a lemon stuffed at the surface of the glass. "Hope you like it."

"What is it?" I ask as I examine it. "It looks like sweet tea."

"It's called a Long Island Iced Tea," the blonde says with a beautiful smile. "Try it. You'll like it."

"Yeah, Bella, that's one hot ass drink right there," Paul adds. "Go for it."

Gripping the cold glass, I shrug, bringing the narrow straw up to my lips. Taking a large pull of the drink I remove the straw from the glass and gulp the liquid down, letting the contents slide down my throat.

"Easy, tutz! You might wanna take your time with that one," Emmett warns.

My eyes go wide. "This is _so_ good! It tastes nothing like the wine I'm used to."

"Why thank you," the blonde replies, taking a bow. "I'm glad you like it. And wine, it isn't."

"You're the bartender?"

"My name's Rosalie, but feel free to call me Rosie. Everyone else does," the woman says, offering her hand to me. "I own this place and bartend on the weekends."

Emmett's smile is all teeth. "She's also my better half, and I do mean better."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Rosie. At least you help balance out the testosterone right about now," I reply with a giggle.

Georgia arrives about an hour later, looking like she's been put through the ringer. "Sorry I'm late, guys. I was on the phone with the boss. Boy, can that man talk."

"When did he get in?" Emmett asks.

"This morning. I forgot to tell you. He called to let us know he was back. I told him that we were all heading over here tonight."

"Did you happen to tell him who all was coming?" Emmett asks, giving me a sideway glance which I ignore, continuing to love my brown concoction.

"Yeah. He asked," Georgia replies, sliding her jacket off her shoulders. "Why?"

Emmett bows his head and chuckles. "'Cause he's a sucker, that's why."

"What?" Georgia asks, clearly confused by Emmett's cryptic word vomit.

"Nothing," he replies.

"What about his wife?" I answer with a hiccup.

I look up at Emmett and Georgia and watch another smile spread across Emmett's face. Georgia and Rosalie look equally amused as they look at one another apparently understanding something that my drunk ass has no clue about.

"Um…Edward's not married, Bella." Georgia says as she downs back one of the shots on the table. "What gave you that idea?"

"His kids." The hiccups are in full force as I try to form coherent words. "I just thought he was married."

"Tutz, that man ain't never been married. Hell, I doubt that idea's even crossed his mind."

"Girlfriend?" The question comes out as more of a whisper.

"Doesn't have one of them either," Emmett confirms as he lowers his head so that he's eye level with me. "You got the hots for the boss there, tutz?"

"What? No!" My voice cracks when I answer. "I don't have the _hots_ for him. He's…irritating."

Emmett raises his brow and pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth. "Could've fooled me."

"Oh, babe, leave her alone," Rosalie says with a wink. "Besides, I need your help at the bar."

I do my best not to make eye contact with either Emmett or Rosalie as she pulls him along with her back to the bar. When the idea of Edward being single crosses my mind my stomach starts to flutter, making me inwardly cheer. But before I can mentally swoon over the idea, the thump and bump of music start to blare through the speakers.

"Oh God, I love this song!" I shout, shooing everyone away, trying relentlessly to make it to the dance floor. "C'mon, Georgia! Let's dance."

As a popular, upbeat song starts to play, my body begins to move. What should resemble something seductive turns out looking like a weird, alcohol induced mating dance. My body is all over the place and my head is spinning. It kind of feels like I'm weightless, and I think I need to remember to never, ever trust Emmett's judgment when it comes to picking out my drinks next time.

"Go get em', tutz! You're doing great!" Emmett yells out over the music.

"Yeah, Bella, looking _real_ good!" Paul's response catches my attention when I notice him begin to get up from his seat, his eyes lingering a little too long on my body.

I stop reading any more into the man and the creepy vibes he's been putting off and just dance, and when the next song, a slower one, begins to ease through the speakers, a warm hand grips my arm.

"May I have this dance?"

My breath hitches as a firm hand slowly slides around my waist, gently touching the small sliver of exposed skin beneath the hem of my top. As the music continues to hum, hot minty breath lingers entirely too close to my ear as stubble tickles the side of my neck. When I feel a set of lips graze the shell of my ear, it sends shivers down my spine, causing my skin to prick with goose bumps.

"I've missed you. You don't know how much I've wanted to hold you in my arms like this. I've dreamt about you." The confession is whispered so only I can hear it. "Please tell me this isn't wrong."

I don't respond. Instead, I keep my eyes closed and just feel.

Closing the gap between us even further, I can feel his hard body engulf mine as he wraps his arms tighter around my waist, keeping me still against his chest. My heart begins to thrum faster and harder against my ribs as he glides his hands up my back, turning me to face him, as he presses his hard length against me. Bringing my hands up the expanse of his back, I let myself feel the contours of his muscles as they move and twist beneath my fingertips, inhaling the clean, earthy scent emanating off of him.

 _Just feel Bella._

"You don't know how long I've waited for you," the gruff voice mutters against my skin.

I'm not sure if it's the booze or my heart talking, probably both, but I'm certain that this is what I want. I know it's any been a short while that I've been here, not to mention a short while that I've known him, but it feels right. I know I should be running, heading for those proverbial hills, but I can't. I don't want to. Either way, regret can come later.

With my head fuzzy and my body tingling, I look up into his eyes and say, "Kiss me."

As he slowly brings his hands up to my face, cupping my cheeks, I can feel my blood flowing hot through my veins. Once his sweet, smooth lips touch mine, I silently and mentally chant the mantra, _This is right. Please let this is right_ , over and over again. I want to believe it as his tongue swipes along my bottom lip.

 _Yes, this_ is _right damn it. This is_ absolutely _right._

The kiss is soft, slow, and momentary as he breaks the contact, raking his teeth across my lip, making my knees weak and causing me to whimper as soon as our mouths part. Staring into his eyes, I see something that James had never shown me. Complete adoration.

As the room begins to spin and twirl and the liquor starts to do its job, I grip him a little tighter around his waist.

"I won't let you fall," he softly says, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Ever."

Without hesitation, I get up on my tip toes, kiss his lips, and say, "Take me home."

 _Regret can come later._


	11. Here Comes The Regret

**Chapter 10**

Here Comes The Regret

* * *

 **Bella**

* * *

My eyes are instantly assaulted by the blaring sun as I crack one lid open and try unsuccessfully to shield the glare behind my fingers. Sunlight and a bad ass hangover never go well together. I've got to be dreaming, or maybe not. I could be dead. It's not an unlikely scenario. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pounding in my head intensifies, and I try to remember what the hell had happened last night. I give up trying to remember and slowly move under the cover of warm, soft, plush blankets until my feet hit something solid.

"Holy shit!" I yelp, trying to adjust my eyes and focus on the solid figure nestling against me and failing miserably.

Sitting Indian style at the foot of the bed, with his chin cradled in the palms of his hands, is a small boy not more than five years old.

"Ooh, you said a bad, bad word," the child tsks, shaking his head back and forth.

I quickly pull the blanket up to my chin, mentally chastising myself for cursing in front of a small child.

"Where am I?" I squeak, my eyes bouncing around the room.

"At home," the little boy replies.

"Um, _who's_ home?"

"My home. _Duh_!" The little boy responds with a dramatic eye roll as if it's the most obvious answer _ever_.

"And, who are _you_?"

"I'm Tyler. And _whoooo_ are _yoooou_?" the child asks, still holding his chin in his palms.

"I'm Bella. I think. Shit," I reply, not quite sure what the hell's going on.

Without a moment's thought, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. At my attempt to break myself from the confines of the blanket, my leg gets caught in the sheet which sends me on a short trip onto the floor.

"Ahh!" My scream comes out more like an impaled hyena as I hit the floor with a hard thud. "Son of a…"

"You okay, lady?" Tyler asks, climbing off the side of the bed. "You want some pupps? Pupps are soooo good! Pupps will make you feel better. Stay there. I'll go get you some pupps."

"Look, if you could just tell me where I am, that would be super. Ahh, _damn it_!"

"You say a lot of bad words, lady. You need a time out," Tyler tsks again, bending down so only I can hear him. "My sissy says the bad word _shet_ sometimes, but I don't tell on her. Nope. I won't say _nothin' '_ bout your bad words okay, lady?"

If I wasn't in such of a clusterfuck right now, I'd more than likely scoop the kid up, stick him in my pocket, and take him home with me. He's that damn adorable.

But first, I need to find out where home is.

Before I can respond to the young boy, the sound of heavy footsteps outside the bedroom door starts to freak me out, and as soon as it flings open, I feel all the air abandon my lungs at the sight in front of me.

It's Edward and he's standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of navy blue cotton sleep pants that sit low on his hips, accentuating the firm, tight muscles of his six-pack, and showcasing the delicious 'V' below his navel. My eyes linger a moment too long as my heart rate begins to speed up with my eyes glued to his mid-section.

All thoughts are quickly abandoned as Edward's deep, rugged voice penetrates my ears, and for once I'm glad to see him.

"Tyler, didn't I tell you to stay out of here?" Edward asks the little boy. "I told you that Bella needed to sleep, didn't I?"

Tyler drops his head, sticking his bottom lip out in a pout, looking like he's about to cry. Noticing the child's sadness, Edward makes his way over to Tyler's side and crouches down, letting his forearms rest on his knees, getting eye level with the boy.

"Look, buddy. There's no reason to get upset okay? It's just sometimes I really, really need you to listen to me, and this was one of those times. Okay?" Edward's full attention is on the small child as he waits for him to respond. "Do you understand?"

Tyler looks up at Edward and sniffles back a few unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Funcle Edwerd."

Edward's smile is blinding as he ruffles the boy's already messy hair. "It's okay, buddy. Why don't you go down stairs with your sister so I can talk to Bella. I'll be down to get you some breakfast in a minute."

As Tyler reaches the bedroom door, he turns and looks at me. "Do you want some pupps, lady?"

"I would love some pupps, Tyler."

"How 'bout you, Funcle Edwerd? Want some pupps?"

"Go ahead and see if we have any, buddy, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, lady."

As soon as Tyler closes the door behind him, I fight the urge to steal a glance at Edward who is still in a crouching position next to me. When I finally lose the fight, I slowly rake my eyes up his perfectly sculptured torso, letting my gaze drag over his well-defined pecks, and across his neck. When I finally make it to his face, it dawns on me that something is different about him. Something is _seriously_ different about him.

"You shaved."

"I did."

"You're beard is gone."

"It is."

"Why?"

Pausing for a moment, he says, "It was time for a change."

Still a heaping pile of limbs on the floor, right where I landed not minutes earlier, I catch Edward's eyes roam over my body. I hadn't even taken the time to notice the fact that I'm only dressed in my white cotton panties and a black t-shirt with the words **'Rough Riders "We ride em' harder and longer"'** on the front of it. I follow his line of sight as his gaze is now fixed in the direction of my legs. When my eyes snap down in the same direction, I notice my left leg is bare and uncovered all the way up to my pantie line, and the only thing keeping my mid-section unexposed is the bed sheet that's haphazardly strewn about.

It's been a while since a man has seen me in only a pair of underwear and I wonder for a brief second what Edward's thinking. Not wasting a minute, I grab the bed sheet and cover myself up.

"Nice underwear," Edward says, gracing me with one of his perfect, pantie-busting grins. "White's really not your color though. I think you're more of a cherry red kinda woman."

I chuckle uncomfortably and decide that now's a good time to bite the bullet.

"What happened last night?"

* * *

 **Until Next Time...**

 **OzellaMarie**


	12. The Lies We Tell

**Chapter 11**

The Lies We Tell

* * *

 **Edward**

* * *

"What happened last night?"

My brows raise and I blow out a breath. Getting to my feet, I have a moment of clarity when I realize that Bella doesn't remember anything from last night. Truthfully, she was plastered, three sheets to the wind, drunk off her ass, and would probably be embarrassed if I told her what she did on the way home, let alone what _we_ did at the tavern.

If you would've asked me yesterday morning if I had expected last night to turn out the way it had, the answer, without a doubt, would've been _no_.

Seeing her standing in the middle of the dance floor at Twilight Tavern, swaying her hips from side to side, lit a fire under my ass. I hadn't expected to walk up to her and take her in my arms. Hell, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind before then that she'd even want me to touch her. I'm not an idiot. I'm pretty sure it was the alcohol motivating her actions. I hadn't expected to take her beautiful face in my hands and kiss her sweet, creamy lips, but I did and she let me, and I absolutely did _not_ expect for her to respond so willingly to my touch and that kiss, but she did. I couldn't help myself with any of it. I needed to place my hands on her body, feel her soft skin beneath my fingertips, and show her how much I wanted her from the moment we met. Sure, she came off as a nosy, bitchy neighbor, but I was a fucking asshole my damn self, so I guess we're even. God, I just want to feel her under my fingertips.

Prior to last night, I haven't been able to think about anything but her. I hadn't been sleeping well and certainly hadn't been able to shake her from my thoughts. But last night, seeing her there, swaying to the music, I had no other thought but to walk up to her and wrap my arms around her, and now that I made that choice, my will to stay away from Bella Swan is lost.

I'm done for. I'm a goddamn sucker for this beautiful woman and I hope that she doesn't regret any of what happened last night if she ever finds out because I sure don't. But instead of cranking up the humiliation meter, I lean against the wall and give her the version she'll most likely accept.

I explain that when I arrived at the tavern I saw her dancing by herself and asked if I could join her. When she accepted, we danced for a while. I lied and told her that she starting yawning and asked me to take her home, leaving out the fact that we had shared a kiss that would make the porn industry proud as hell. She goes on to ask how we got to my place and where her car was. I tell her that I left my Harley inside the tavern and brought her home in her car. But I didn't mention that on the way home Bella decided to hang out the passenger window waving at each and every car that passed by and damn near mooning a police officer who was ticketing some dude with a blown tail light. I was actually thankful for that, considering I got to see half of her bare ass before I pulled her back in the car. I also don't tell her how she leaned into me and kissed the shell of my ear, begging me to hurry because she couldn't wait any longer. I also don't tell her that as soon as we got to her house I was fully ready to take her upstairs and fuck her into oblivion. Since she can't remember one bit of last night, I decide to leave that part out.

"So why didn't you just leave me at home?"

I tell her that when we got to the front door neither of us could find the keys to her house. Apparently Bella had some strange habit for separating her car and house keys instead of putting them on the same key ring.

"That doesn't explain why I woke up like this," she says, looking down at herself and then back to me. "Did we, you know. Did we _do_ anything?"

My heart crashes against my ribs when I notice her face twist with unease.

"I undressed you," I admit, still looking at her face. I can't help it. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, save for the fact she could be a big pain in the ass sometimes. Most times, but whose keeping track.

I explain that when I got her up the stairs, she immediately fell asleep. I tell her that I didn't want her to be uncomfortable so I put one of my t-shirts on her. What I don't tell her is that she'd gotten so sick she threw up everywhere, making her clothes un-wearable in the process. I also don't tell her that when I successfully got her undressed, I put her in the shower, and bathed her from head to toe. I keep out the fact that after I laid her in my bed, I picked up her nasty clothes and put them in the washer. No, I didn't tell her any of that.

"We didn't do anything, Bella. Your virtue is still safe from the bad man next store," I reply with a light, uneasy chuckle.

"My virtue," she says so quietly I almost don't hear her.

We stay quiet for a few moments before I head for the door. Reaching for the handle, I turn back and say, "I'll leave you to get dressed. Your clothes are hanging in the closet."

And with that, I'm gone.

* * *

 **Until Next Time...**

 **OzellaMarie**


End file.
